


push and pull (and push and push)

by RinHo (RinAngel)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: BDSM, Bottom Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Bruises, Corporal Punishment, Crying, Dom/sub, Impact Play, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan is a Brat, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan is a Little Shit, M/M, Punishment, Sadism, Spanking, Tears, Top Moon Taeil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26877679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinAngel/pseuds/RinHo
Summary: Taeil gives the best spankings when he's pissed off, so really, he only has himself to blame when Donghyuck starts acting like a little shit.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Moon Taeil
Comments: 4
Kudos: 201





	push and pull (and push and push)

**Author's Note:**

> Note that this is intended to be pre-established and consentual play. I'm just a lazybones who wrote this in less than 24 hours.

Doyoung is tired, more tired than usual. It's been photoshoot after interview after radio show, and— everything just seems  _ worse _ today.

Jaehyun is quieter than usual, absorbed in his phone. Taeyong is higher on enthusiasm, which he normally likes, but today it sort of makes Doyoung want to choke him. Mark fucked up every other sentence at the interview, even the English ones, and Doyoung might snap if he has to hear one more strenuous bout of "like...uh... it's like...hyung, what's the word?".

And then there's Donghyuck, who's been bouncing off the walls even more than usual today. Harassing Mark, making fun of Jungwoo. He ate nearly half of Doyoung's french fries when they crowded into the van for lunch, apologizing each time he was called out but always reaching for more. This is the NCT Dream version of Haechan, not the sweet baby maknae that Doyoung can half-tolerate, and he hates it. He wonders, for the millionth time since they've met, if Donghyuck has a manic streak. It would make sense.

"Will you  _ get off me?  _ It's too hot for you to be laying on my shoulder." Taeil sounds the way that Doyoung feels, and for half a second, Doyoung feels sorry that he's taken the seat up by the manager in the front of the van. Taeil takes the brunt of everyone's shit. He's the oldest, the shortest, and even in a group with Mark Lee, he's somehow the most awkward.

"But you're squishy! And I'm tired!" Donghyuck's tone is cheeky, the voice he usually reserves for the cameras. Doyoung wonders if someone is filming something, but before he can ask, Donghyuck answers the question indirectly: "Ow! You asshole, don't pinch me!"

_ "I said, get off of me." _

"Some hyung you are! You're supposed to  _ baby _ the maknae! You should see how Dream treats Jisung."

"Yeah, well, Jisung isn't the spawn of Satan."

"That's a fucked up thing to say about me, Moon Taeil. I'm an _infant."_ Donghyuck is starting to dig under Doyoung's skin with his very _tone,_ but before he can turn around and yell at the maknae to shut the fuck up for five minutes, Donghyuck lets out a little shriek and then a whimper. Taeil must have gotten him with his nails that time _;_ Doyoung is pretty sure that the petty satisfaction he feels at Donghyuck's suffering means that he's going to hell.

_ Go, hyung. _

//

Donghyuck tries to be good. He tries so  _ terribly  _ hard. Tries not to tease Mark and the Dreamies too much. Tries not to roll his eyes when Taeyong gives them pep talks. But it’s hard, it’s a lot of pressure, a lot of acting against his nature, and some days he just  _ has _ to give into temptation. Sometimes he has to misbehave. Like a monster inside of him that can be sated only by sacrifice.

He doesn’t know what brought it on today. All he knows is that he now has two angry, crescent-shaped indentations in his wrist from Taeil’s nails, and they’ll probably bruise, and they hurt when he presses on them with his thumb. His breath is shaking a little.

Next to him, Taeil snorts. Donghyuck wants to bite him. Bites his lip instead, looks out the window, and stays uncharacteristically silent.

When they arrive back to the dorms, the van empties. Donghyuck should fall into step behind Doyoung to their dorm, but instead, he keeps close behind Taeil, who doesn’t acknowledge them at all. Jaehyun, who’s also in the van with them, shoots Donghyuck a look, and he answers without having to be asked: “I need to borrow something from Mark’s room.”

“Ah.” Jaehyun doesn’t argue. Taeil is silent.

The tenth floor dorm is dark— they’re the first van back, Mark isn’t even there, but Jaehyun is preoccupied with his need to shower. He disappears into his room and closes the door, which gives Taeil the perfect opportunity to scoop up Donghyuck by the elbow and steer him down the hallway to the room he shares with Yuta.

Yuta will be back soon, Donghyuck wants to point that out— but then Taeil locks the door and slams it shut, and the point becomes moot. Taeil’s irritation is palpable, Donghyuck has been able to feel it all day, and now, uncharacteristically, he can’t bring himself to even lift his eyes from the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“What?” Donghyuck dares to look up, eyes wide, but head still bowed, gaze hovering somewhere around Taeil’s belly-button-level. “You brought me—”

“We don’t have much time. Pull down your pants and get into position, before I have to put you into position myself.”

A year ago, Donghyuck would have laughed in Taeil’s face and asked him how in the world he intended on doing that. He’s since learned, though. Taeil is only fun to irritate until he’s irritated. Pushing him past that point only prolongs the lead-up, and since Taeil’s already pissed, Donghyuck’s content to skip right to the good shit.

He shimmies out of his tight-fitting jeans, removes his boxers. He’s half-hard, but it hardly registers beyond the blood pulsating in his ears and the manual draw of each breath. He lays himself face down across Taeil’s unmade bed, hands obediently in front of him, toes propping him up on the floor to present his bare ass.

Taeil is such a careful person, so gentle with Sicheng and Jungwoo and Mark— and with Donghyuck, normally, except Donghyuck has gone and pissed him off, and there’s no room for gentle anymore. The hand that fists in Donghyuck’s hair pulls hard, craning his neck back.

“H-Hyung…”

“You did this to yourself. I’ve been listening to your voice all day, and now I don’t want to hear anything from you.” Taeil’s palm striking his cheek catches Donghyuck off-guard - Taeil has never outright slapped him in the face before - and it doesn’t hurt how he expects, but knowing that he’s expected to hold still and take it is utterly humiliating.

Almost as humiliating as the fact that he  _ does _ hold still and take it. Whimpers, though, and earns another. The hand in his hair tugs hard, and— really, it’s more surprise than pain that makes him cry out, makes his hips gyrate against the blankets under him with a muted gasp. (He prays Taeil doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t say anything.)

“Open up.”

Donghyuck’s jaw falls open on autopilot.  _ Good _ comes easily with Taeil standing over him like this, making him feel so absolutely vulnerable— and when a wadded up corner of the bedsheets is shoved between his lips, Donghyuck bites down just as he knows he’s supposed to, and he resolves to swallow every sound that he can.

Then nothing. Nothing. Waiting might be the hardest part. Anticipation makes his knees knock together, his breaths grow short. He wants to move, wants to look over his shoulder, has to press down on the bruises forming on his wrist to clear his mind. Breathe, focus.

The mattress shifts. One of Taeil’s knees is square in the middle of the back, suddenly, with just enough weight to keep him still. He wouldn’t have moved, though, not if he could help it. Breathe, focus. Eyes closed, teeth clenched, mind quiet for the first time all day.  _ Want it, hyung. As hard as you think I deserve. Please please please please. _

It’s a duller  _ thud _ than Donghyuck would like, but it still blooms beautifully with pain— first his left asscheek, and then his right, both delivered before his mind can comprehend them. He knows this implement to be one of Taeil’s sneakers, a modestly heavy Converse shoe, with a rubber sole that will leave distinctive lines imprinted in his bruises. The belt is his favorite, but Taeil is conscious of the noise; if the shoe is making any sound at all against his flesh, it’s drowned out by his pulse pounding in his head.

Left, right. Left, right. Taeil’s weight pinning him. Donghyuck’s fingers scrambling, inadvertently yanking the fitted sheet off of the mattress. Jerking himself forward, jerking his  _ hips _ forward, his sock feet sliding awkwardly across the hardwood floor beneath him. Everything he’s been itching for since the moment he’d woken up that morning, with the notion in mind that he was going to be a little shit to  _ everyone _ that day.

The pain comes in stages: fresh and stinging at first, deepening as bruises form, intensifying until he  _ has  _ to whimper desperately into his gag— and then, finally, when he’s not sure he can take another without jerking away, the endorphins catch up with him and it’s all mind-numbing, shudder-inducing pleasure.  _ Please, _ Donghyuck tries without thinking, but all that escapes is a moan.

It’s a game of edging. Occasionally, Taeil pauses and runs his fingers over the darkening bruises that Donghyuck can already picture; when he does this, the pain catches up with him, his muscles burn, his eyes sting, and then the next hit is  _ excruciating. _ Taeil is either extremely calculated in his mission to punish, or a genuine sadist.

There’s no way he won’t be black and blue the next day. Sitting will hurt. That will keep the monster at bay for a few days, at least.

“Hyung—” This is more of a word than before, but still muffled by the sheet, and Donghyuck feels a wave of embarrassment at his own inevitable break. He can’t keep quiet now, can’t keep his breaths even, might hyperventilate.

Or cum. For a moment, it’s a toss-up, but the endorphins win. With a full-body shudder and a keening cry, he fists the sheets and ruts against the mattress like his life depends on it. Stars dance in front of his eyes, and everything else seems like a million million miles away. Breathe, no focus, just floating, just wanting this feeling to stay.

But it doesn’t of course. It ebbs away, brain fuzzy, body tender, and Taeil is  _ still _ hitting him. Without the endorphins to protect him, it suddenly hurts a  _ lot. _ Donghyuck tries to take it because he knows that he deserves it, but it isn’t long as all before he’s tearing the fabric out of his mouth so that he can beg incoherently, and then he remembers—  _ “Fuck.  _ Red, red, red,  _ red—” _

The blows stop, and then pain comes all at once, blinding and brilliant and bringing him to tears. Donghyuck resists the urge to grab his ass, hugging the mass of bedsheets instead as he sobs; it’s Taeil who rubs the bruises tenderly to ease the pain, his own breaths audible and quivering from exertion.

“Good?”

_ “God, _ yes. Thank you.” Might be the first time he’s spoken formally to his hyung all day. He sounds so small and fragile, even to himself.

“You know, I’ve told you, you can just  _ ask _ for this. You don’t have to be a dick and antagonize me.”

“B-Better when you’re mad.” Donghyuck is coming down from his high, and he can hear Taeil rummaging for the salve he keeps in his bedside drawer— he sighs, half joking as he adds, "Would be better without aftercare, too. You're so  _ soft." _

"I don't care. Shut up and do as I say for once." There's no more anger left in Taeil's hands as they smooth the cool, soothing balm over his stinging, throbbing skin. Donghyuck likes his touch best when it's harsh. He can admit to loving the pain, but his pride won't let him love this in the same way just yet. After all—

Taeil's lips are petal-soft on his flushed cheek, his tongue tickles as it flicks out to catch a stray tear, and Donghyuck's crying breaths give way to an amused hiccup.  _ "Gay,"  _ he teases, because he can't  _ fucking  _ help it. Maybe the monster isn't satisfied, not completely.

"Hmph." One strike with his hand, a satisfying sting and ache that makes Donghyuck grin, even as he wiggles away. And that, of course, is when Taeil  _ notices,  _ and asks in an icy tone of disbelief: "Did you seriously cum all over my brand new, clean bedsheets? From a spanking that was supposed to be a punishment?"

"Couldn't help it. Felt too good."

"You  _ little brat."  _ Taeil's fingers thread through his hair, and Donghyuck has to try hard not to laugh as Taeil pulls his head back towards the edge of the mattress— forcing his face down into the mess like a puppy that's pissed in the house. "Clean it up."

_ "Ack—"  _ Donghyuck nearly gags, but it's more surprise than disgust. He's tasted himself enough times before that it barely fazes him. Instead, he'd rather faze Taeil; he wiggles out of his grasp, ignoring the smart of his hair pulling, and presses his lips to Taeil's.

It might be the first time that  _ Donghyuck  _ has kissed  _ him,  _ so uncharacteristically sweet, until he jams his tongue past the elder's lips, bitter with his own cum.

_ I'll show  _ him _ spawn of Satan. _

Taeil pushes him back into the mattress, breaking the kiss with a breathless blush. Taeil likes things like this, a heaping helping of soft along with his sadism, and Donghyuck is okay with indulging him every so often. "And you can do my laundry tomorrow, too, since you're so keen on making a mess of everything."

(Donghyuck wonders how he can make a mess of that, too. Usually bruises are enough, but this time— maybe not.)


End file.
